


Five Times Gustav Got the Wrong Impression...and One Time He Didn't

by fyredancer



Category: Tokio Hotel
Genre: Fluff, Humor, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-11
Updated: 2013-02-11
Packaged: 2017-11-29 00:01:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,112
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/680374
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fyredancer/pseuds/fyredancer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The title is the summary.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Five Times Gustav Got the Wrong Impression...and One Time He Didn't

**Author's Note:**

> IDEK, man. I'm a twins girl. I was really confused as to where this even came from. It is probably a one-off, never to be repeated.

There were many traits that Gustav Schäfer prided himself on, even believing himself to be the sole possessor of certain skills and habits amongst his Tokio Hotel bandmates. That he was an avid reader, no one would dispute. That he preferred discretion above all other things, most would agree to. One that few were aware of, however, was his distinct lack of curiosity. It had been cultivated over the course of several years and exposure to a certain pair of twins. Gustav was of the mind that in most cases, it was better not to know, the grass was not necessarily greener, he did not want to pull the finger, and if one of the twins was smirking, the safest course was to turn around and head back in the other direction.

Sometimes, however, he stumbled into situations where he simply couldn't help himself.

That afternoon, it was a groan that first alerted Gustav, and so he looked for the sock.

The sock, by established tradition, meant that one of them was getting busy, either solo or by virtue of entertaining. At least, they'd all agreed it could mean 'entertaining,' but Gustav was fairly sure that not a single one of them had managed to bring a girl back to the band flat. So a groan could mean anything from a handjob to the dubious possibility of a midday nightmare to something gone horribly wrong, such as Bill's cooking.

On the verge of calling out "Someone there?" Gustav held it in when the groan came again, louder and more theatric than pained. That was the groan of someone with an audience; Georg, his discerning ear nailed it down. The twins' voices were in the process of breaking and it had plunged Bill into a cloud of fitful depression over whether he'd have a career when that was done with.

They're watching porn, was Gustav's first guess. But the tell-tale other noises that would accompany that fitful groan were absent. There were some soft clattering sounds, but that was it.

"Fuck...fuck!" That was Tom, sounding frantic.

Gustav raised a brow and headed for their common room. The door was mostly closed, but if Tom was also in there, Gustav was no longer particularly concerned he'd be walking in on something that had the potential to scar him for life.

He froze one step from the creaky floorboard when Georg yelled, "Pull out, pull out! It's too much, this is no good!"

Tom's response was low and florid, making even Gustav somewhat impressed by the tonal quality as well as the colorful nature of the swears.

Skirting the creaky floorboard, Gustav pressed doggedly on. They couldn't possibly... And yet, his traitorous imagination supplied a few helpful images. Tom was a growing, horny young boy, and Georg was entering the curious stage of life, after all, and he'd said more than once that Tom was very pretty...Gustav struggled to cut off that ridiculously dirty line of thinking as he approached the common room doorway, which was ajar enough to let a chink of light stream into the dim hallway.

He was only passing by, Gustav told himself determinedly as he continued up the hallway. It wasn't as though he were spying on them. He'd been headed for the stairs anyhow. As he passed, he peeked through the cracked doorway.

What he saw was not quite what he'd expected.

"You're really crap at this game, Tom," Georg told him, appearing to wrestle with his handheld controller then making a motion as though to chuck it across the room. He grunted angrily as one of the armored, helmeted figures onscreen exploded into bits.

"Shut up, this is only the second or third time I've played it," Tom retorted. "Not all of us are lucky enough to have our very own Xbox at home, you know." He tossed his own controller aside.

"Yeah, yeah," Georg said, sprawling back along the floor on his elbows. "What do you want to do next?"

"Dunno," Tom said. "Not much we can do if we're keeping the volume off because Bill's got a 'migraine.'" He formed air quotes while naming Bill's affliction, which Tom had declared, intermittently, was the result of puberty or a lack of twin time. Prescription was, by turns, either leave him the hell alone, or everyone but Tom had to get the hell out.

"I've got some new porno," Georg offered. "Don't exactly need the sound for that."

Gustav decided that the wisest course of action would be to proceed to the kitchen and make himself a sandwich as originally planned.

* * *

One of the downsides to being a reflective person known for prolonged silences was that most people took Gustav for a good listener. It was as though people reached the conclusion that, because Gustav wasn't talking about himself and engaging in his socially acceptable share of the conversation, he must want to be burdened with whatever they wanted to unload. So he was more or less used to surprise confessions, and tended to take them in stride.

Early morning and the teenage male psyche were a lethal combination. Gustav stumbled into the kitchen one early morning when the band bus was due at their doorstep any minute, and oriented himself in the direction of the coffee odors.

"Hey," a voice came from behind him. Georg.

Gustav mumbled an approximation of a greeting, fumbling through the cabinets behind him for a mug.

Behind him, he heard Georg repeat hesitantly, "H-hey."

Blinking, Gustav set his mug down and poured himself a cup of fresh, hot coffee. Georg ought to know he wouldn't be of any use until he'd gotten at least one cup of caffeine into him.

"There's something I've been meaning to tell you," Georg said, "and I'm kind of worried you're going to think it's weird."

Gustav held his breath. He knew he should be used to being used for a sounding board by now, but each and every time he had to brace himself. He stared down at the depths of the black liquid and took a bracing swallow, nodding slowly and hoping with all his heart that it had nothing to do with the twins. He still hadn't quite wrapped his brain around the enigma encased in a mystery wound in a puzzle that comprised certain aspects of the twins' relationship.

"I...I'm just going to say it, okay?" Georg rushed on.

Gustav nodded wearily at his coffee mug without turning around.

"I think I like you," Georg said quietly. "No...that's not quite...I _really_ like you."

Gustav blinked down at his coffee, furrowed his brow, then his eyes snapped wide open. Wait...what? Surely he hadn't heard that right. Of all the confessions he'd been expecting... A fluttery, terrified sensation filled his stomach, like the frantically-thrashing wings of a dozen hummingbirds struggling to stay aloft. What was he supposed to say? He and Georg had been friends for ages, but he'd never...well, he'd simply have to tell Georg that. He'd never really thought about him that way.

As he stared at his coffee, he found himself wondering whether he could, then realized with surprise that perhaps it wasn't so far-fetched a notion.

Georg broke into a pleased rumble of a laugh. "Really? That's great, then!"

Gustav frowned. He hadn't said anything yet. Slowly he turned, gripping his coffee mug tightly.

He peered through bleary eyes across their tiny band apartment's kitchen. He didn't have his contacts in yet, but the harder he squinted, the more clear images became. Now he could tell that Georg had a phone lifted up to his ear.

"Oh," Gustav mouthed, and quietly left the room.

* * *

Unlike the Kaulitz twins, who had the gift shared by insolent felines and pampered royals of being absent when they were most desired, Gustav had a habit of being at the scene when someone needed a hand. He'd occasionally thought that if he hadn't turned out to be such a crack hand at drumming, as well as somehow managing to join up with the twins to form a band that was rapidly taking Germany by storm, he would have made a decent jack of all trades. At the very least, he seemed to have the gift for being in the right place when someone required a favor.

It was either that or Gustav had been born under an unlucky star.

The bus had been in motion for hours, and the twins were locked in the media room again. Messing around with new music, Bill had said; absolutely do not disturb, and Gustav tried never to think about that too hard. That was another of his talents: selective focus. It was amazingly convenient to be able to turn off a small part of your brain before it went places. Self defensive, some might even say.

Thus Gustav was the only one on the couch to hear when there was a thump, followed by a slightly louder thud, as though someone were pounding on a door.

"Gustav?" Georg's voice called.

Gustav lifted himself up from the couch slightly, peering up the narrow aisle that led toward the bathroom, and the bunks. "Yeah?"

"Gustav!" Georg repeated, his voice now radiating warmth and relief and all sorts of emotion that Gustav tried not to think about. "You're there?"

"I'm here," Gustav confirmed, hoping that he wasn't about to stumble into some trap, like the last time he'd gotten suckered into a drinking game with Georg on the bus when they were due at a concert that evening. Georg had laughed it off, but Gustav smarted under the brunt of every lecture he'd ever received. It was precisely because they were younger than their musical competition that they had to be better than all of them, more in control, twice as mature.

"I need you!" Georg called out, sounding very sincere.

Gustav's brows pushed together. "Oh?" he replied, wary ever since the incident when he'd walked in on Georg's morning conversation with a girl who had held his attention for all of two weeks.

"Please, I need you!" Georg called again, louder and tinged with desperation now.

"On my way," Gustav said, heaving an internal sigh and getting to his feet. Georg sounded fairly urgent, and he couldn't help but respond to that, in the end. He balanced himself against the motion of the bus and headed toward the bunks area. "Where are you?"

The bathroom door slid open. "I really need your help," Georg said mournfully. His shirt covered the essentials but he was undeniably seated on the toilet.

"Don't tell me," Gustav said, his stomach sinking.

"We're out of toilet paper," Georg said, smirking to cover his extreme embarrassment. "And I need _something_."

Gustav sighed. "I'll go hunt up some of Tom's Kleenex, hold on," he replied. Perhaps he wasn't so much unlucky as cursed.

* * *

It was both a boon and a handicap, by turns, that Gustav had honed his selective focus to a fine art. He could completely tune out entire conversations, snapping to attention only when he heard a tell-tale noise or his name to haul him back to the awaiting reality at hand. It was a definite plus in interviews, which were so boring to him that occasionally Gustav marveled that neither of the twins had thrown a mike at a camera yet. It wasn't so convenient at other times.

"Gustav," Georg said, with the air of someone who was expecting the answer to a question.

Their eyes locked across the close confines of the studio. During practice they tended to face one another in a tight circle, rather than assuming the linear configuration to pose before the audience during concerts. Gustav held himself poised to kick off the beat and stared into bottle-green eyes, waiting.

And waiting.

"Huh?" Gustav said, when at last he realized that an unanswered question had hung in the air for almost a full minute.

Tom began to snicker and Bill kicked him in the ankle.

"Can you turn me on?" Georg repeated.

"Umm," Gustav hedged, looking away. Bill was gazing at Tom with half-lidded, sparkling brown eyes, his teeth buttoned speculatively over his lower lip. That was no good; Gustav shifted his gaze to Tom, who was messing with his guitar strings, oblivious to Gustav's plight. Not, apparently, to Bill, though; he looked up at his twin with a quick, shy grin before turning his attention back to the guitar.

"Gustav," Georg said, a trace of impatience in his voice.

"I don't understand the question?" Gustav tried desperately. His main goals in life that moment were keeping his very good friend, and getting the twins to stop playing footsie long enough so that they could all have a productive practice session.

"Turn me on," Georg said, and Gustav really wished he'd stop saying it. "The amp's right by your foot."

Oh. _Oh._ Gustav laid aside his drumsticks and managed not to smack his forehead over his sheer idiocy. Of _course_ Georg meant turn the amp on; what else would he have meant?

"Yeah," Gustav said, and leaned over to flip on Georg's amp.

It wasn't that Georg was giving him mixed signals, Gustav thought with resignation as he settled back onto his stool. It was more along the lines of Gustav having developed an unenviable, albeit mild fixation that had no ready means of appeasement.

Someone else might call it a crush. Gustav considered it some kind of ironic torture. He'd fallen into the trap of one of the most absurd romantic tropes – the bookish, stoic nerd had fallen for the easygoing, oblivious popular guy.

Only Gustav wasn't a girl nerd, and he'd seen enough of Georg's type to know he wasn't it.

* * *

Being somewhat aloof from the present moment had certain drawbacks. On the one hand, it was convenient for cultivating a certain mystique – Gustav much preferred that to the less pleasant prospect of being called a wallflower – but the downside was missing some opportunities, when they presented. None of them were particularly tactile, especially not the twins – confounding fan expectations, they preferred not to be touched unless it was unavoidable. Yet at award ceremonies, they hugged; all of them hugged each other. Gustav chalked it up to the ebullience of emotion. They'd won so many awards, he'd had ample opportunity to observe the phenomenon.

When they won yet another Comet for the evening, Gustav turned toward Georg, arms pre-emptively extended. The last time he'd been caught off-guard and caught up in what had basically amounted to a headlock.

As he stood, he was presented with Georg's back as Tom swept up their bassist in an enthusiastic hug. The twins were taller than both of their older bandmates, now, and Bill was peering over Tom's shoulder with a wide grin that verged on manic. The thwarted glitter in his dark brown eyes made Gustav extremely glad he wasn't Georg, right now, who would surely find something awful in his shoes, or his shampoo bottle, or possibly his food sometime in the next twenty-four hours.

They only had a few seconds before they were expected up on stage, so Gustav gave a tiny shrug and turned to hug their manager instead, patting him awkwardly on the shoulder and wrinkling his nose at the overdose of cologne.

"Hey," Georg whispered to Gustav as they piled into the aisle for another march to the front of the event hall. "How about that? Pretty awesome, huh?"

Gustav could only nod helplessly and wish, for once, that he could stand beside Georg for photo ops. Tradition and Bill had dictated that the twins stood in the middle, flanked by 'the other two,' as Gustav had occasionally heard people refer to them.

Georg gave him a shoulder squeeze as they began the walk up the carpet for the third time. Gustav inhaled and wished he didn't notice the way Georg smelled nice.

* * *

One of the traits that Gustav was slow to own up to, but knew he possessed, was that for all his smarts he could on occasion be very dense. The first time a girl had flirted with him, it had taken three separate witnesses telling him later that she'd been into him before Gustav had realized he'd blown his chances. The fact that he couldn't safely go out in public by himself when they were on tour hadn't fully registered until a trio of screaming girls had torn the hoodie right off his shoulders. Gustav ascribed it to a combination of stubbornness; being used to getting overlooked once the twins had sprung up gorgeous rather than spunky and adorable; and over-thinking things and arriving at the wrong conclusions.

So it took him a while to grasp what was offered sometimes.

"Want to go to a movie?" Georg asked him out of the blue one evening.

"Why?" Gustav wondered. "We could watch one here."

Georg wrinkled his nose. "Not interested in any of the ones we've got here. Let's go out, okay?"

"I'll go see if the twins want to go," Gustav volunteered, thinking ominously of the sock and how it seemed to be on Tom's door as a regular occurrence lately and there were no girls in the flat, yet Gustav was pretty sure he'd heard two voices...He turned his brain off, then.

"No, without the twins," Georg said, giving him a faint smile.

"Really?" Gustav said after a moment. His brow creased. "Wait...you know it's a Friday night, right?" He typically had to work himself up to going out and clubbing, but Georg would be out every night if someone didn't stop him.

"Yes, I'm aware of that," Georg said patiently. "So, how about it?"

"...And you don't have other plans?" Gustav questioned.

"No, I'm making plans with you," Georg said. After a moment of looking at Gustav's blank expression, his handsome brow gathered in a frown. "Wait, do you have plans?"

"I was going to read," Gustav began. He blinked, recognizing Georg's expression as disappointment. "I mean, no. That's not really what I'd call plans, no."

They looked at each other for a moment. Georg shuffled in place, opened his mouth, shut it, and smirked over at him.

"...This is kind of like a date," Gustav observed at last, getting it out there so they could laugh about it and move on.

"Yeah," Georg said, and his smirk widened into a genuine smile. "It does seem to be like a date. Is there a problem?"

"No," Gustav said, a slow smile taking hold of his face in response. "No, there's no problem at all."

This time he was seizing opportunity with both hands.


End file.
